Page 36 of The Marriage Mistake

I needed to get a grip.

“What a storm,” Oren announced as he walked in. “Look at that.” He stared out the window, shaking his head.

“Thank you for hosting us tonight,” I said.

Jack nodded. “Apologies for not getting your system up and running. Two of our guys from Ellsworth should be here soon, so we’ll have patrols around the property to make up for the gap in coverage.”

“I saw your email,” Oren said with a nod. “Good work. Now. Ember. Tell me how you two met.” His eyes twinkled as he sat down across from us, gaze only on me.

Jack shifted in his seat, then put his arm around the back of my chair. Possessive. I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I did. Shouldn’t have liked it at all.

“We met through Etta Mars,” I said, which was sort of true. “Kind of, um, a matchmaking thing.”

Oren brightened. “The arranged marriage scheme? I read about that in the local paper.” He laughed. “I thought there was something strange going on here.” He tilted his wine glass toward the two of us.

Jack tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oren spread his palms, smiling genially. “Just that you two don’t strike me as people who would click under normal circumstances.”

“And why’s that.” Jack’s voice was flat. Angry.

But how could he be angry about something that was so patently true? I was so ordinary, and Jack was so…Jack.

If I were some catch, I would get some sort of male attention. I would’ve had more than one single boyfriend in my life.

Oren laughed, which only seemed to make Jack angrier. “I’m just surprised, is all,” Oren said. “Ember is one of a kind.” He glanced at me, and the way he held my gaze made me want to squirm.

But not in the way Jack made me want to squirm. This was uncomfortable.

Especially since I knew Jack hated it.

I cleared my throat. “You have a beautiful home,” I said in a clumsy attempt to change the subject. Oren accepted the compliment gracefully, and then the first course was served.

Jack was mostly silent and brooding next to me, and he seemed relieved when the meal was over. We headed back to our room and got ready for bed in silence. Two sets of pajamas had been left on the bed while we were out, on top of the turned-down bedding. It was like being at a hotel, but way nicer.

Outside, the rain had quieted to a dull patter. The thunder had moved on, and it seemed the worst of the storm had passed.

But we were still stuck here tonight. I gulped as I walked out of the bathroom, eyes flicking to where Jack sat on his side of the bed.

Shirtless.

My eyes snagged on the breadth of his shoulders and all that golden skin on display. My fingers itched to run over his chest, to feel the coarseness of the hair there, to feel the heat of him against my palms.

I tore my gaze away, breathless.

“I can sleep on the chair if you’re uncomfortable,” Jack said.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Sorry?”

“If you don’t want to share a bed.” His jaw clenched. “I know you don’t like touching me.”

“It’s not—” I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to tell him that every time he touched me, I had a tiny detonation between my legs, was I?

“Ember.”

I hated when he said my name like that, all warm and rumbly and male. I shook my head. “You’re not sleeping on an armchair when there’s a perfectly good bed right here. It’s big enough for the two of us.”

I hoped.